


Playing Dumb

by vanceypants



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Body Modification, Bottom Jeremy Heere's Squip, Degradation, Domination, Friends With Benefits, Hair-pulling, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Manipulation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Spanking, Trans Rich Goranski, roommates with benefits, temporary bimbofication sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27433195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanceypants/pseuds/vanceypants
Summary: “Looks like your pain receptors have been successfully rerouted.  And your cognitive abilities are muted.”“What’s that mean?”Rich pulled his hand away from Squip’s cheek, only to pinch his chin between his fingers and thumb.  He tugged him closer, smirking at him, as Squip looked at him with watery, lustful eyes.  “I’ve turned you into the perfect dumb little painslut.” He laughed then, leaning in and kissing Squip’s forehead.  The feeling of Rich’s lips against his body made him feel feverish and excited, and Squip whimpered happily.  “Or, you know, you’ve got a terminal case of cumbrain.”Rich likes to experiment with technological innovations.  His roommate happens to make the perfect test subject.
Relationships: Jeremy Heere/Jeremy Heere's Squip, Rich Goranski/Jeremy Heere's Squip
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	Playing Dumb

**Author's Note:**

> This is some niche shit here. If you're giving it a chance anyway, I deeply appreciate it.
> 
> Usually notes for my trans porn, this features descriptions of a trans man's genitals using cunt/clit terminology.

“I still say we could get the same effect with some tequila shots and a few hours of edging me to decent porn.”

Rich didn’t offer a response, though Squip hadn’t exactly expected him to. He sighed, the disorienting sensation of fingers moving through his skull panel enough to give him jolts of anxiety. He glanced down at himself, chest still opened, a few stray wires poking loose. He reached towards one, poking the licorice red of the rubber safety coating, and then wincing as Rich twisted something especially secure within his head.

“Sorry,” Rich said. “You’re just so fuckin tight, bro.”

“Are you sure you’re pulling the right chips?”

“Positive.”

Squip twiddled with the wire another moment, before gasping as Rich tugged once again. He could hear the scrape of metal, the vibration of his own insides rubbing together, and it made the enamel on his synthetic teeth itch. He ran his tongue over them instinctively, then felt his body shiver in pleasure.

That had been an ordeal in its own right, the day Rich had modified his tongue. Replacing each sensor meticulously, ensuring he could still taste, could still feel, and then rerouting every sensation to his pleasure sensors. It certainly made eating interesting, and definitely made other activities extremely enjoyable.

This, Rich assured him, would be just like that. 

Except everywhere.

And Squip knew he could do it--he’d already accomplished pleasure amplification procedures to his scalp, to the bottoms of his feet, to his navel, to certain patterns in his palm. So many secret places that could be caressed and teased into coaxing an orgasm out of him.

Sometimes it could be extremely inconvenient, especially when his roommate opted to use those spots to get out of doing laundry or dishes.

Most of the time, though, Squip couldn’t say he minded. Who didn’t want to feel good?

“God you’re gonna be so hot,” Rich said.

“I already am.”

“No, man, I know, but--like you are sure about this, right?”

“It’s a little late for that now.”

“Yeah, but...I mean, I’ll fix you after, you know, it’s totally safe, I’ve run all the diagnostics and-”

“Richard,” Squip sighed. “I consent. I enthusiastically consent. I trust you,” He paused, then added importantly, “Idiot.”

“Dickhead.”

Squip opened his mouth to reply, but with another tug, he felt whatever chip Rich had been pulling at come loose.

For a moment, everything was fuzz, vision white and fingertips tingling. A moment. Or perhaps an hour. Or perhaps a lifetime.

He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything.

And then the room began to tingle back into awareness, slotting piece by piece before his vision. Squip licked his lips, the taste pleasantly sweet. 

Rich was in front of him, fixing his chest panel closed once more. Squip hazily lifted a hand, touching his scalp, feeling the wholeness of it, carefully closed up and maintained once more.

“How are you feeling?” Rich asked, his eyes wide and concerned.

Squip stared at him for a long moment. Or maybe a short moment. Time seemed to have lost meaning.

Finally, he managed to ask, “Huh?”

Rich smoothed his fingers over Squip’s syntho-skin, the split of his skin fusing itself back together in its artificial healing way, disguising the paneling underneath effortlessly. Squip’s body tingled in response from the motion. He faintly arched towards Rich, though he seemed not to notice.

“You were out longer than I expected.” Rich’s small hands caressed Squip’s cheeks, then forehead, before he laughed a little (though he deemed not to pull his hands away), “Look at me, checking for fever or something. Some scientist. Nah, I don’t think you’re overheated, there’d be other signs...are you okay though? You’re like...you’re not saying much. Are you okay?”

Squip blinked, lifting his hand and placing it on the back of Rich’s. Rich’s skin was soft, warm, and he found himself nuzzling his cheek against him, taking in every ridge of callous against his fingertips. 

“You feel nice,” Squip said slowly. Rich’s other hand, the one he wasn’t cupping, combed through Squip’s hair. His fingernails scratched pleasantly at his scalp. Squip sighed, unsure whether to lean up into that hand, or to continue rubbing against the one on his face. It just felt good.

Rich made him feel so good.

Rich was so good.

He wanted to make Rich feel good too.

Squip smiled. “You feel really nice.”

Rich’s concerned look had faded, a small grin instead fit onto his face. “Okay, yup, looks like the modifications took.” His fingers tangled into Squip’s hair abruptly, tugging sharply, the strands of hair straining against his sensitive scalp. The pain was sharp and sudden and then, just as quickly, melted into a spine melting pleasure. Squip’s mouth watered in excitement, his eyes half lidded, an unceremonious moan escaping his plump, desperate lips.

“Looks like your pain receptors have been successfully rerouted. And your cognitive abilities are muted.”

“What’s that mean?”

Rich pulled his hand away from Squip’s cheek, only to pinch his chin between his fingers and thumb. He tugged him closer, smirking at him, as Squip looked at him with watery, lustful, excited eyes. “I’ve turned you into the perfect dumb little painslut.” He laughed then, leaning in and kissing Squip’s forehead. The feeling of Rich’s lips against his body made him feel feverish and excited, and Squip whimpered happily. “Or, you know, you’ve got a terminal case of cumbrain.”

“Cumbrain.” Squip repeated dreamily.

“You’re just a braindead whore, aren’t you, Squip? You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything,” Squip’s hips wriggled, and he found himself softly grinding against the pillow he’d been perched upon when Rich had started working on him. The pressure was subtle, not nearly enough, but his cock throbbed all the same with every rut. “Rich-”

Rich was still gripping his chin, tilting his head this way and that as he regarded him. “Yes?”

“Please use me.”

“I’m getting there. You just had a major upgrade, though, maybe it’d be kinda...I dunno,” Hesitancy tainted his earlier dominant tone. “Maybe you should take it easy or something.”

Take it easy? Squip’s cheeks puffed out petulantly as he gave a shake of his head. Take it easy! How could he even say something like that? When Squip’s skin was tingly and desperate and needy, when his scalp demanded scratches and hair pulling, when his lips needed kissing.

Which was exactly what he tried to do, pushing forward with his lips pursed, eyes closing. Rich’s hand was rigid, pushing against his chin, keeping him from making contact.

He laughed at him. And Squip felt a little embarrassed, only for the embarrassment to trickle into amused excitement himself. Rich was laughing at him. Rich thought he was silly, stupid, slutty, and it made his wires twist and turn on themselves, sparking happily.

“That’s a no to a break then?” Rich said. His grip loosened on Squip’s scalp, only to tenderly cup his cheek. Sitting on the floor as they both were, Rich shuffled forward, until he had his forehead resting against Squip’s. “Holy fuck, I can’t believe the things you let me do to you.”

It seemed a strange sentiment. After all, Squip hadn’t done anything yet. Once again he tried to press forward, to brush their lips together, but Rich stopped him again, pulling back, both hands against his face.

“And you’d let me do more, wouldn’t you?” He continued. “You’d let me do anything.”

“Uh huh,” Squip agreed with a nod, a chirp.

“I could take you apart completely. Ruin you, piece by piece, and you’d say yes, wouldn’t you?”

“Touch me,” Squip whined. It wasn’t an answer, while at the same time being more truthfully consenting than anything else he might have said. He moved down against the pillow, panting as his body blistered and overheated. 

“I could leave you like this forever, just a pretty husk of your former self, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing. Do you know that?”

There was a twinge of something within him, but just like the pain and the embarrassment before it, this too faded into a warm honey, surrounding his swishy brain and sensitive body. “Yes.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t know anything. You’re just a braindead whore.”

“Yes,” Squip giggled. And giggled more when Rich laughed. “I’m a braindead whore,” He repeated, and bounced slightly.

His body finally found stillness as Rich deemed to kiss him.

Rich’s mouth was smaller than Squip’s own, but pressed against him with just enough hardness to keep him from feeling cheated by lack of surface tension. His tongue ghosted over Squip’s mouth, which already parted. Squip’s own tongue felt electric, desperate, needy, every flavor profile exploding within him. Rich was strawberries and champagne, or maybe poptarts and cheap beer, but either way Squip wanted to bottle him up to sip forever.

Rich rolled his tongue against Squip’s, and Squip trembled, the sensors within the organ electrifying him. His eyes shot open, taking in the kaleidoscope of too-close colors that made up his roommate’s features.

Rich pulled back, Squip’s tongue still hanging out of his mouth after the act, panting more intensely. Rich reached out, squeezing his tongue between his fingers, a sharp pinch that made Squip whine and ache. 

“I hope your memory units are still in full effect,” Rich said, voice full of longing. “I want you to remember this, to know even after you’re you again that you were mine.” He released Squip’s tongue, and Squip closed his mouth.

The urge to reassure Rich was quiet and insistent, but brief, and quickly washed away as Rich’s hands moved down Squip’s chest. His top half was undressed, a necessary step to get to his panels, but until now Rich had regarded him as an object.

And maybe he was still seeing him as an object now, Squip thought. Just a pretty thing to rub against, to stimulate.

Squip’s nipples hardened and he hummed in satisfaction.

Rich pinched his nipples, tugging against them testingly. It was almost too sharp, but the twinge of pain only made it better. Squip could feel precum staining the inside of his underwear now, and wondered if he’d stain the pillow he continued to rut against if they kept going at this rate. Something briefly told him he’d be dissatisfied later if that were to be the case.

But who cared about later? Who even knew if later truly existed? What mattered was here and now, Rich’s hands and his kisses--and oh, Rich was kissing him again and how glad Squip was to receive the gift of his mouth and teeth and tongue--and tomorrow was nothing to worry about. Foolish sluts like Squip had no use for tomorrows.

Rich broke the kiss, only to nestle his lips against Squip’s neck. Squip tilted his head upwards with a whine.

“Oh, if Jeremy could see you now,” Rich teased.

Jeremy. The name made Squip’s skin prickle happily, as Rich sank his teeth into him. The bite was scalding and Squip felt his synthoskin puncture under the pressure. Anymore and he’d tear, any less though and he wasn’t sure he’d feel properly alive. He wished he could bruise. Could Rich do that for him? Could Rich make it so he could bruise? He wanted to be able to be marked fully, to be turned black and blue and purple under bites and slaps and spanks. He wanted to be a pretty slutty canvas, he wanted sunsets on his flesh. He wanted-

“Jeremy,” He moaned, his mind scattering back to Rich’s sentence. Rich kissed the bite, scooping his tongue over the indents, then bit lower. His hand caressed Squip’s chest, thumb rubbing one of his nipples.

Jeremy lived in the apartment above them. He rode a red bicycle to his part time job at the movie theatre, where he tore ticket stubs and swept up popcorn and, once, snuck Squip into a midnight premiere through the back door, just the two of them. It hadn’t been a date, but their arms had brushed together against the armrest between them and he’d smelled Jeremy’s breath everytime he laughed: skittles. 

He was, he supposed in his more generous moments, a friend more than a neighbor. But he was also likely more Rich’s friend than his own. They were both humans, after all. And Squip was...Squip was…

Oh. Shoot. Everything felt so good he forgot what he was.

“What am I?” He moaned without thinking of the consequences of asking.

“A slut,” Rich said against his neck without missing a beat.

“I’m a slut,” Squip repeated, pleased with the answer.

Jeremy was pretty. Jeremy was pretty and understated and shy. Jeremy was soft and brilliant and Squip wished he’d held his hand and tasted the skittles on his breath when he’d had the chance.

Rich scattered kisses against Squip’s chest, tongue lapping over the nipple he wasn’t currently pinching with his fingers. Squip brushed his fingers through Rich’s hair, and tilted his head with a smile.

Rich was pretty too, he decided. They certainly fooled around often enough for him to be aware of that fact.

What were roommates for, after all?

Rich pulled back, abruptly standing. At this position, Squip’s face was directly at crotch level, and both seemed aware of that fact at the same time.

Squip grabbed Rich’s hips, shuffling forward until his cheek was pressing against the hardness outlined within his pants. He snuggled against him, nearly drooling against his jeans. “Rich,” He whined. “Let me taste you.”

“And why should I let you do that?” Rich asked, though his face was flushed as he looked down at him, eyes bright and excited.

“Because I’m a good boy. I’m a good slut.” Squip adjusted his kneeling position, finding a corner of the pillow and rubbing himself against it. He wished he was wearing a skirt, or better yet nothing at all. His own pants felt too restrictive, cut him off too much from sensation. He just needed to feel. He needed to feel so much.

Rich took a fistful of his hair, pulling it sharply. Squip cried out, grinding more intensely at the spike in sensation going through him.

“Tell me to fuck your mouth.”

“Fuck my mouth,” Squip groaned. “Fuck my stupid, slutty mouth.” He laughed, and then pressed kisses to Rich’s fingertips as Rich attempted to brush a thumb over his bottom lip. He nibbled on one of his fingertips, then looked up almost shyly as he began sucking on his thumb. Rich’s thumb tasted salty, vaguely of oil, and Squip realized that was himself, he was tasting his own insides on Rich’s touch.

It felt good, the flavor of it, on his tongue. He found himself grinding the flat top of his tongue against Rich’s thumb at the same pace as he rubbed himself against the pillow.

“Take off your pants,” Rich commanded in a low voice. His thumb pulled away from Squip, and Squip carefully rose onto wobbly legs. He towered over Rich, yet somehow this didn’t make him lose the sense of awed superiority that the human clearly held over him. A dull blush arched down Squip’s face and neck and chest, everything impossibly warm, as he unbuttoned his pants.

The fabric slipped down his legs, and Squip stepped out of them, standing before Rich in his silky underwear. The areas of fabric where his cock rubbed were wet with his excitement, his precum, and the spike of embarrassment quickly absorbed into his pleasure sensors with a delightful pop.

“You’re a good boy, Squip,” Rich said. “You’re a good, pretty boy. Show me that pretty little dick of yours, would you? Your girly little cock, take it out for me, would you, baby? Just for me?”

Girly. Little. Pretty. Every adjective made him pulse, dizzy, and Squip carefully slipped his underwear down to his ankles as well, stepping out of them until he was nothing but needy skin and trembling limbs and throbbing manhood.

His eyes pleaded in all the ways his voice suddenly couldn’t, too trapped with moans to speak, as he so earnestly desired Rich’s touch. 

And Rich, gracious and adept and kind Rich, held his gaze and smiled, as his hands reached out, one resting against Squip’s hip, the other gently taking his length into its palm.

The weight of himself in Rich’s hand was solid and heavy. He felt every twitch and movement of fingers, Rich squeezing him, and Squip prayed a flurry of moans. Rich moved up to the base, then stroked long and deep to the tip. He focused there a moment, fingertips memorizing his cockhead, wetting his digits with the artificial liquid that made up his precum. That, too, had been one of Rich’s impromptu upgrades one evening.

_”It’s weird how, like, you don’t actually jizz, you know?”_

_“It’s neater. I’m sure it’s more satisfying this way.” Squip had countered._

_“No fuckin way, dude,” Rich propped himself up on his elbows, the two of them lounging on Squip’s bed as they watched 1950s creature features. “There’s nothing like a warm mouthful of cum, dude. Jeremy would love it.”_

_“What do I care what Jeremy loves?”_

_Rich had laughed brightly. “Denial is cute on you. Listen. I think I could whip something up, get you shooting like a real boy.”_

_“If it’s that important for you to have a project, I won’t protest,” Squip had folded so easily, telling himself even as he did so that it was only because it was easier than dealing with a sulking roommate, that it wasn’t because he cared certainly, and it absolutely wasn’t because he wanted it for himself._

Rich pulled his hand away, Squip trying and failing to move his hips towards him to keep him close. His smile was bright, and Squip felt himself melting under it.

“Get on your knees,” Rich said, his hand pressing on top of Squip’s head when he inevitably obeyed, sinking down and staring at Rich’s unfortunately clothed body with interest. “And touch yourself.”

Another twinge of embarrassment, of shock, and then quick slippery pleasure again. Rich wanted him to touch himself. He was so good, so giving, and Squip was happy to do whatever he asked of him.

His hand wrapped around himself, the grip almost startling despite being his own. His body felt tingly and unreal, like his atoms were spaced just a little too far apart. He wanted to bundle them all together and roll about, to touch and be touched, to feel everything.

Rich’s breath hitched as he watched him, kneeling and stroking himself. His fingers pet through Squip’s hair, and Squip bumped his head upward to meet his touch. “You’re so beautiful, Squip.”

“Yes,” He agreed, and murmured sweetly as Rich stroked his cheek tenderly.

Rich finally pulled his hand away, a momentary look of uncertainty, before he was stripping his tank top off. Those looks were usual, Squip was just aware enough to note. The nerves. The uneasiness. No matter how often they did things together, Rich always seemed, if only for a few seconds, to feel unsteady.

Rich’s stomach was toned, and Squip couldn’t resist leaning forward, brushing his tongue over the muscle playfully. As expected, Rich squealed, pushing on his forehead to get him back. “Jesus, you fucker, you know I have a thing for that, don’t make me nut before I’m naked.”

“Pretty,” Squip said, sighing as he began to stroke himself a little faster. It felt good. It felt good and hot and shameful, the sort of shameful that made his everything glow with delight. He wanted to be shamed and degraded. He wanted to be a dirty object for Rich to use and toss away. 

His eyes moved up Rich’s body, watching as he removed his binder, the tight black material releasing from his chest. Rich’s breasts were flushed, the skin seemingly tender, pliant flesh giving the slightest of bounces as his nipples perked in the cool air. 

Squip licked his lips, staring at his chest as he rubbed the tip of his cock. Rich glanced down at him and winked.

His hands dropped down to his jeans next, carelessly unzipping them and tugging them down. He kicked them away, his bare feet curling against the ground for a moment, before he reached into his underwear, carefully drawing out his packer and tossing it in the pile with his jeans. His underwear came next, his eyes averted from Squip.

But Squip couldn’t look away. He was so close to him, kneeling before his pretty little cunt, the exaggerated size of his clit just barely peeking out, as though to say hello. Squip certainly yearned to greet it.

Squip’s artificial breathing mechanism was working in overtime now, panting huffs of breath escaping him, brushing against Rich’s skin, as he inched closer. He squeezed his cock, and kissed Rich’s thigh.

“Can you fuck my mouth now, please?” He mumbled against him. His pleasure was mounting, a steady incline that was making it even harder for him to formulate words out of the slush of his mind. “Please, please use my mouth, Rich. Please? I’ll be a good boy, I’ll be a good slut, please use my useless mouth. I want to be your cocksleeve.”

Anatomically, it only barely occurred to him that the term was incorrect.

But the reaction from Rich was so right that it made Squip beam. Rich gasped, a lovely little sound that made his lips form into a startled ‘o’, before he smiled, bashful and endeared.

“Okay.”

Squip’s hand stilled against himself as he used his other hand to touch Rich, his thumb pressing against his cunt, briefly holding him open to take a look at the pink wetness of him. Rich gave a small swat to the back of his hand, the pain fleeting and small, and enough to make Squip’s cock twitch pleasantly.

“Did I say you could stop touching yourself?”

The hand against his cock slowly began to stroke again, base to tip, while his other hand softly swiped over Rich, savoring the feeling of how aroused he was, hot and soaked. He moaned, eyelashes fluttering, as he tilted forward.

Rich’s clit certainly didn’t fill his mouth like a traditional cock would, but it was throbbing and slick and delicious and Squip’s lips felt like they were crafted to envelope it. Hell, with all of Rich’s modifications to him, maybe they were. He rolled his hips about, grinding into his own hand, as he moved his tongue against him. The joint stimulation of tongue and cock was nearly too much all at once and he had to still, taking several husky breaths, grasping at Rich’s thigh with trembling fingertips.

And then he found himself falling into a pattern.

Squip nestled against Rich’s cunt, Rich thrusting his body forward to meet his tongue. The smell of him was powerful, clean but decisively human, and matched the taste flooding his mouth. He focused on his clit, flicking it with his tongue, then sucking after, only growing more excited when Rich’s hand knotted into his hair.

“That’s it,” Rich moaned. “Suck my fucking dick, bitch.”

Squip’s lips twitched at the corner, amused and aroused at the same time. That was right. He was a bitch. He was just a filthy, pathetic bitch in heat, fucking his own hand and sucking his owner’s cock. It was so easy to think like that, to give up control like that. He was just a creature chasing pleasure, a pathetic animal made of metal and silicone and pleasure sensors. Rich could consume him however he saw fit.

Except the one eating right now was Squip. And Squip was fucking ravenous.

Rich thrust his hips against Squip’s face, grinding his cunt against his mouth, against his face. Squip could feel his skin soaking from it, as he readjusted, nose nuzzled up against Rich’s clit now, while his tongue started to move inside him. The tightness of his body clenched around his tongue and Squip hummed, both in excitement, and in hopes that the vibrations would please Rich.

Judging by the sounds Rich made, he’d made the right choice.

Squip fucked him with his tongue, maneuvering about until he was using his fingers to slip and glide over Rich’s clit, tongue deep inside him. The faintest touch of teeth against him only seemed to fuel Rich further, though Squip was artful, careful not to bite, not to hurt. 

Pain was for Squip. Pain was what Squip deserved. Rich twisted the handful of hair and Squip squealed into him in gratitude.

Squip alternated between softly petting himself and harsher squeezing, both sensations pleasing in their own ways. He wished Rich would touch him, longed to feel his hands all over him, but the way he’d ordered him to take care of his own pleasure was exciting in its own right. He whined against Rich, the wetness of his body lewdly glistening against his lips and chin.

Rich’s moaning grew louder. Jeremy almost certainly would hear them, Squip thought. The idea only enticed him further.

And then Rich was grasping the back of his head with both hands. He smothered Squip’s face against him, holding him in place while he controlled the movements of his own hips, using the shapes of his face for his own pleasure. Grinding, thrusting, spasming against him. Squip could feel his body flex and flutter around his tongue.

“You slut, you filthy fucking whore, you stupid bitch, pathetic little girl, take it, just fucking take it, oh god, oh GOD, oh _Squip_!”

Rich’s voice was shrill, his body nearly convulsing as he came against him. The sensation of it against Squip’s tongue was beyond mesmerizing, tantalizing, every texture and flavor erupting in fireworks of desire. He squeezed his cock unceremoniously, clasping sharply as though to prevent his own orgasm, entire body quivering as he swallowed and licked and kissed his way through Rich’s pleasure.

His scalp burned with the pressure of fingernails against him. Squip’s face burned, as though having absorbed the heat from Rich’s cunt.

It was lucky his breathing response was purely aesthetic, because he surely would have suffocated to death with this vice grip if it weren’t.

But what a way to go.

Everything throbbed as Rich released him. He pulled Squip’s face away from him, stroking a finger over his lips, swiping away his own cum, then pushing the finger into Squip’s mouth, quietly insisting he licked it clean. He pulled his hands away, smiling softly.

“You really are pathetic.”

Squip’s own smile was delighted and foolish. Pathetic. What was pathetic? He didn’t know, he couldn’t remember, but he liked the way Rich said it. He liked when he called him pathetic, he liked when he called him pretty, he liked when he called him slutty. 

“But you’re a good fuck,” Rich added. And Squip’s smile only grew brighter at that assessment. “And I think you deserve something for your good behavior, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Squip breathed. “I want you to fuck me.”

“And do you think you deserve it?”

“Yes. I’m a good boy.”

Rich’s smile twitched at the corners, voice harshly excited. “Tell me you’re a good girl.”

“I’m a good girl.”

“A good, slutty girl.”

“I’m your slutty baby girl.” Squip insisted. “Please fuck me.”

“Get on your hands and knees then.”

Squip wobbled as he moved, setting his palms against the ground, until he was properly positioned. He spread his legs as much as he could given the position, arching his back, hoping that his ass looked as appealing as he dizzyingly felt.

Rich brushed his hand over the swell of it, before giving him a sharp slap.

“You have such a nice ass,” Rich commented. And then spanked him again. Squip squealed, dropping from his palms down to his elbows. 

Rich paused, grabbing the pillow that Squip had been humping earlier, and placing it between his arms, underneath his head. Squip felt a rush of gratitude in the midst of his burning need, resting his cheek against the plush of the pillow. The fabric felt soft and delicate and even that sensation was enough to pleasantly agitate his overly sensitive skin.

Rich spanked him again. Squip bucked backwards, meeting his palm when it inevitably met him again.

Another adjustment, and then Rich was reaching underneath his body. Squip trembled with anticipation, fingers ghosting for a few delicate moments, before finally, oh finally, he was taking his cock into his palm.

He squeezed him, as he gave his ass another swat. Squip whined into the pillow.

The spanking lasted long enough for time to lose all meaning. Squip melted in it, the pain of the continued assaults to his ass coupling with the delight of having his cock stroked. Everytime he came close, Rich seemed to sense it, clamping down on him, stopping the friction, letting him settle just enough to avoid spilling over, but not enough to undo the knots of anticipation inside him.

And then Rich was pulling away.

“Wh...where are you going?” Squip asked, lifting his head from the drool-spotted pillow. He blinked blearily back at Rich, but he was already leaving the room. Should he follow him? Squip glanced around the living room, as though trying to gain sense of where he was, what he was, of anything that wasn’t the near-despair of his absolute desire.

Tears clung to the corners of his eyes, his hips thrusting against nothing for a moment. No pressure. No touch. No Rich. Where was Rich? Why had Rich left? Was Squip bad? Was he bad and undeserving and unwanted? Even the anxiety excited him, but it was too much.

Rich’s footsteps were rapid, as he set down the bottle of lubricant and the obscenely purple vibrator, lightly textured with silicone bumps meant to pleasantly rub and stimulate. It was a new one, Squip realized, and he felt a strange sense of pride in the bursting bubble of his fears that Rich was deeming him worthy of being the first to test it.

Rich’s smile faltered just a little, taking in Squip’s face peering back at him. “Oh, baby, are you crying?”

“Yes,” Squip chirped, smiling once more. Because Rich was back. Rich was back and he was going to make him feel good. He made everything feel so so good.

Rich rubbed Squip’s ass softly, petting him, rubbing against skin that would have reddened if he were human. 

“You’re doing so good,” Rich said softly. He leaned down, kissing Squip’s lower back. “You’re doing so good, Squip. Thank you for being so good.”

Squip would have purred if he could--and indeed, his processors nearly were inside, working in overtime to compensate for his overheating. 

“Do you think you can take all this at once? I’m gonna get it nice and slick for you, but you can take it all at once, don’t you think?”

Squip didn’t have to assess the data. He wouldn’t be able to even if he wanted to, those pathways blocked off and inaccessible. He didn’t know how to read patterns or analyze danger or articulate anything at all.

He knew how to fuck, though. He knew how to feel.

And he was ready. Ready to feel everything.

“Yes!” The tears in his eyes glistened, unshed, as he gave a needy wriggle to his hips. “Yes, I can take it. I can take your cock. Fuck me, Rich. Fuck me! It’s what I was made for!”

He listened excitedly, looking off to the side as he rested his cheek against the pillow again, as Rich opened the bottle of lube, as he began to coat the toy. He squeaked a little in surprise as two fingertips moved against the cleft of his ass, swirling against him, a small twinge of lubrication directly against him.

If he was aware enough to think about past encounters, he would have asked for more prep. Squip knew he wouldn’t tear, knew there was no health risk, but he also knew that he had pain receptors within him--not harsh ones, but just enough to make him tender and sore for the next few days, to be distracting.

It wasn’t so much pain, actually, but rather an ever-present reminder of being well fucked.

But his pain receptors were rerouted, and what was wrong with dwelling on a good fuck anyway?

In any case, he wasn’t aware enough for any of those thought patterns. All he could do instead was whine as the tip of the silicone toy moved against him. A tease, rimming around his most sensitive skin.

And then Rich was pushing it inside him.

Squip could feel every bump, every ridge, every detail of the synthetic cock as it buried itself into him. 

“Oh,” He breathed, eyes wide, as his body stretched to accommodate the toy. Rich just seemed to keep pushing and pushing. And when he thought he couldn’t take anymore, he pushed one more inch.

Completely inside him, Squip’s body clenched around the toy, his teeth gritting together for a few seconds before discomfort and pain sharpened, pronounced, then just as suddenly slipped down to the very edges of his body, then evaporated. All that was left was a pleasant stretch, a comfortable fullness, and an absolute desperation for friction.

Rich flipped the toy on. The sound of vibration was loud, etching itself into his metal endoskeleton. Squip’s teeth chattered a moment, a surprised whine escaping, and then drifting into a dreamier sigh. Rich pulled the toy half out, then thrust it back into place. Squip tried to move his hips back to meet it, but found every movement clumsy and unpracticed. All he could do was kneel and take it.

Rich fucked him with the toy, adjusting and reassessing with every change in pitch to Squip’s moans. Rich’s own breath was unsteady and shaky, desperately excited. Squip wondered how wet he was, and found his tongue desperate to taste him again.

And so he bit the pillow, nibbling at first, then clenching his teeth against it, his eyes watering.

It stifled his sounds as Rich reached underneath him and took his cock again.

Rich coordinated every stroke, every thrust, expertly. Squip wriggled and shook and gasped and cried, tears spilling down his face. Even the soaked aftermath of his crying felt pleasant against his sensitive skin.

Everything was so much. The last vestiges of Self, of Thought, of Consciousness burst away from him. He was just a slutty, grinding, needy vessel of pleasure.

“Cum for me, Squip,” Rich murmured. He leaned over his back, kissing the back of his neck. Squip barely understood him, at least his words, but he understood the permission in his tone. Understood the affection. Understood the acceptance and happiness.

He came as though he were undoing life, the universe, and everything in between. He came, and it was as though he were being born into something new, something delicate and sensitive and needy. He came and he couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop crying, because it felt so good, everything felt so good. His teeth clutched the pillow, and his fingers scraped the ground, and the toy vibrated inside him, and his cock throbbed in Rich’s grip, and his last coherent thought was that he hoped he was at least being ruined beautifully.

And then he collapsed, slumping forward on his elbows and his cheek, eyes unfocused and body too hot. 

Squip was barely aware of Rich pulling the toy from him, of him casually wiping the tackiness of Squip’s cum from his palm onto his thigh. Soft kisses grazed his spine, and then Rich was pulling him into his arms.

Squip was larger, but he felt so tiny, folding up against Rich, clinging to him, his face against his breast. Rich pet his hair and let him cry against him for several moments.

The next few hours were hazy. Rich kept him held close, eventually taking him to the bathroom and setting him in the tub, submerged in cool water.

“You’re too overheated for me to set you back to normal yet,” Squip vaguely heard him say, as he used a cup to gently pour water over his hair. He tilted his head back, sighing happily as Rich shampooed his hair. His hands were warm in contrast to the water, moving over him as he cleaned him, cooled him.

The cooling process was set backwards when Rich’s hand inevitably strayed between Squip’s legs, Squip hardening effortlessly. He stroked him off in the water of their tub, kissing the top of Squip’s freshly cleaned head, as he got him off once again.

Everything still felt so dreamlike, even as Rich guided him out of the tub, wrapping a fluffy towel around him and taking him to the living room again. They lay on the couch together, Squip just in a towel, Rich having at some point pulled on a pair of ratty boxers.

Rich fell asleep after some time, seated upright, head lulling back against the back of the couch. His snoring was soft and made Squip smile, though he was still struggling to comprehend where he even stood right now.

Squip was hardly aware of himself as he reached to the side table, taking Rich’s phone and inputting the passcode that his fingertips seemed to remember while his processors themselves didn’t. Some sort of robotic muscle memory.

Jeremy’s name was the only name in the list of contacts that made any sort of sense. Squip smiled, leaning down to lay his head against Rich’s lap, staring up at the ceiling as he called him. 

The ringing took too long, almost unpleasant, but Squip couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed, even when he got Jeremy’s voicemail.

“Hi Jeremy,” He breathed into the receiver. “It’s Squip.” His tongue tingled, and he briefly rubbed the tip of it against the roof of his mouth. It felt so good. 

He imagined Jeremy checking his messages, seeing that he called, and his cock throbbed at the prospect of being so thoroughly perceived by him.

“I want to be your whore, Jeremy. I want you to sit on my face.” He giggled, everything bubbly and bright and hopeful. “I want to hold your hand and fuck you and feel your tongue against mine. Let me be your slut to use. I want to make you feel good.” He glanced down at himself, the towel barely concealing anything, fabric already pitching upward with the intensity of his erection. 

“I need to touch myself now,” He said seriously. “Call me.”

He barely ended the call before dropping the phone to the carpet, shame twisting into delight before it could even properly manifest, as his hand made its way between his legs. Just as he was made for.


End file.
